Pawn
by Miss Special
Summary: BW Era: A reluctant protagonist... An underground organization... A voice... A moon... Nothing is as black and white as it seems. Absurdly long foreward inside.
1. Benign Beginning

This is not a typical Beast Wars fanfic. If you're hoping for a adventure revolving around the Maximals fighting the Predacons (or vice-versa), you won't find it here. Save for a small mention in chapter four, the Beast Warriors are entirely absent. So are factions as you know them, though that is because they hadn't crossed my mind when I started writing this. You won't notice their absence.

This is a fic about one of the little guys. The kind of guy who stays at home while the warriors fight. He is called to action not because he's the only one with the talents to do it, not because this is his destiny, or anything of that sort. He just happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

This fic takes place after the Beast Wars. Beast Machines never happened, as I'm sure some of you are glad to hear.

To the readers who have stuck around this long, do not judge too quickly. That said, enjoy.

* * *

Pawn  
Chapter 1: Benign Beginning

The mech walked through a dark, quiet corridor, his footsteps the only sounds of life on the deserted ship. He walked with a purpose, a definite destination in mind, even though he'd never set foot on the ship before.

He had to manually open the door at the end of the corridor, gaining access to a vast chamber that housed a long, complicated beam array. The mech went to the end of the array, to the spot where the beam would be focused.

He reached into his subspace compartment and drew out a small box. He still had a hard time believing the lens encased in the box, no larger than his hand, was the source of so much trouble.

With great care, he placed the lens in its slot, frowning at how easy this step had been. After all the deceit, manipulation, and firefights he'd just been through, it seemed anticlimactic.

"Alright," he said aloud, though the ship was devoid of life, save for himself. "I've done it. Now what?"

The echoes of his voice ringing off the walls of the chamber provided no answer.

* * *

It felt like an eternity ago, but not long before, he had been an ordinary, average mech. Not to say that he wasn't average or ordinary now, but things were a lot different now than they were then.

This ordinary, average mech had an ordinary, average name (Hinge), and an ordinary, average desk job that perfectly fit his ordinary, average life. He worked as an information router technician, meaning he made sure the information routers worked properly, which they usually did.

His coworker, Sylvie, who also served as his best friend, was only slightly less ordinary and average than he. She had a vivid imagination and a thirst for adventure, which he couldn't say he _didn't_ have, it was just that he didn't use or notice it.

For example, it had been her idea to get beast modes. They were all the rage, apparently. It seemed everyone was getting one.

He'd initially been reluctant to get one, mostly because they were on the expensive side, but he thought it might be a nice, relatively harmless opportunity to stand out.

So when they went to the largest beast mode supplier in Cybertropolis, he looked over the extensive list of potential beast modes and considered his choice carefully.

Sylvie had already picked out her beast mode ahead of time, speeding up the process for her. When she emerged from the chamber with her new gray fox beast mode, Hinge was still pondering over the list.

"Hurry up already!" Sylvie nudged him in the arm, impatient.

"I'm still thinking," he insisted, poring over the list for the seventeenth time. "I want to pick the right one."

"What does it matter? If you get one you don't like, you can have it removed."

"Having a beast mode removed costs more than having one put on. I'm trying to make sure I only have to do this once."

"When did you get to be such a stick in the mud?"

"When this fad got to be so expensive. If they didn't take payment in installments, I couldn't even do this."

"Well, just hurry up," she said again, leaving him to continue scrutinizing his options while she investigated upgrades and maintenance packages.

He finally narrowed his choices down to one. It was a creature that commanded respect and awe. With the striking colors, he'd cut quite a figure. It might even change the way people perceived him.

Half a megacycle later (longer than usual, because there'd been slight complications with the machine that the technicians had to fix before he could be finished), he came out of the chamber, ready to show his beast mode off to the universe.

"What do you think?" he asked Sylvie, striking a pose that showed off his new features.

Sylvie burst out laughing. "A panda?"

Hinge's face fell. "It's no good?"

"No, it's fine!" Sylvie said, trying to comfort him, but doing a lousy job of it because she was still laughing. "It's so cute!"

Hinge slumped, his enthusiasm gone. "Let's just get out of here."

"Aw, don't feel so bad." Sylvie patted his arm, laughter subsiding. "You'll get used to it."

* * *

"Oh, hey, maybe I should go here!" Sylvie leaned closer to her monitor and read aloud from a cyber-brochure: "Pristine beaches of black sand, hundred-foot tall trees swaying in the ocean breeze, a spa complete with the best hot-oil bath in the solar system. Think I should try it?"

Sylvie had been looking at potential vacation spots all day, using her office terminal, instead of doing her job. Hinge didn't care about her slacking off so much as her flaunting her annual vacation leave in his face. He wouldn't get his leave for another five months.

"It sounds nice, Sylvie," he said, though he hadn't actually been paying any attention to the description. "Why don't you go there." He probably should've made it sound like a question, but Sylvie didn't seem to notice.

"I went to a beach resort last time," Sylvie said. "Maybe I should go for something else this year."

"Uh-huh." Hinge was preoccupied with watching the readout a router that looked like it was going to go down.

"Why don't you come with me?" Sylvie offered.

"That one sounds good. Go to that one."

"You aren't paying attention, are you," Sylvie dryly accused.

"Oh, that one sounds much better."

"Hinge!"

"The router in sector eight's gone down!" Hinge pushed himself away from his desk, springing into action.

"Let someone else take care of it!" Sylvie said, annoyed.

"But..."

"Look," Sylvie pointed to another coworker, "he's already on it."

Disappointed, Hinge sat back down, once again focusing himself on his monitor.

"I was inviting you along," Sylvie said.

"I can't go and you know it," Hinge answered, resting his head on a hand. "My vacation's not for a while."

"Take a bunch of personal days," Sylvie suggested. "Primus knows you've got them saved up."

"I'm saving them for when I need them."

"Like a vacation!" Sylvie smiled at him hopefully. Hinge's optics remained glued to his screen.

"Look at you!" Sylvie decided a change of tactic was in order. "You think a router going down is exciting! You _need_ a vacation."

Hinge sighed. "And where do you suggest this vacation should take place?"

Sylvie grinned, knowing she'd won. "How about the Emerald City?"

"Never heard of it."

"It's a planet about a solar cycle from here. It's modeled after a human named L. Frank Baum's Emerald City, where everything is green-- the buildings, the windows, the 'bots who work there, even the sunlight's filtered so it's green."

"Sounds freaky."

"It's really popular, according to this webzine."

"Like how beast modes are popular."

"Slag, Hinge, you really _are_ a stick in the mud!"

"How can I afford to go out that far? I'm still paying for the beast mode you talked me into, and that was four months ago!"

"It's so cute, though!"

Instead of retorting, Hinge gave Sylvie a look that told her she wasn't helping her argument.

"I'll help pay," Sylvie offered.

"How can _you_ afford this? Your paycheck's as small as mine!"

Sylvie shifted in her swivel chair. "I've got some money saved up."

"I think I'll just stay here. Nice, familiar old Cybertropolis." Hinge nodded to himself.

"Oh, Hinge, _please_ come with me!" Sylvie begged. "Otherwise, I'll be going all alone, and who knows what would happen to a weak little femme like me?" Sylvie dramatically feigned a faint.

"Fine, fine. Emerald Land-"

"Emerald City."

"-Emerald _City_ it is. I'll put in notice with the boss."

"You're the best!"


	2. Trouble in the Emerald City

Pawn  
Chapter 2: Trouble in the Emerald City

* * *

Hinge was well past having second thoughts. He was probably on twenty-second thoughts, but he'd lost count at eleven.

It was just a tad too late, though, as the transport ship set down in the spaceport on the outskirts of the main part of the Emerald City, which despite being called a city, was actually an entire planet.

Hinge stepped out of the ship, shielding his eyes as he walked into the sunlight. A tram was waiting to take him and the other tourists to the central city.

The green was surprisingly tolerable. He thought it would be some hideous shade that would pervade his very existence, but this was actually okay. Everything was bathed in a soft green light, giving the new world an exotic flair.

"Is it like this everywhere?" he wondered aloud, stepping into line to get on the tram.

"Pretty much," Sylvie said. There're a couple of places where you can go if you can't take it anymore, but that's a pretty rare occurrence."

Hinge looked up. "And the sunlight's filtered?"

"It's actually pretty simple. They rigged the moon to project light filters around the planet, which filters out the majority of the other colors of light. They could change the filters if they wanted, or they could turn it off."

"Sounds like a lot of work just to make everything green." Hinge, at the front of the line, took the nearest available tram seat. Sylvie sat down beside him.

"They initially made tourists wear visors, but that was way too complicated."

"Where did you learn all this?" Hinge looked down at his smaller friend, wondering why she knew so much about a place she'd never been to.

"I read up on it beforehand," Sylvie answered, shyly avoiding his gaze. "I was asking myself the same questions you are."

"Oh."

When the last tourist boarded the tram, it took off for the central city, winding among green fields and tiny green houses. Green groves of trees dotted the rolling hillsides.

Hinge thought it was all a little much. Tiny green houses?

"Munchkins," Sylvie said. "Read about them in the brochure. I also read about skiing on green snow, the clubs that are open all day and night, hiking in the green moonlight, exploring the green mountains and valleys, casinos, arcades,

"You can stop it with the green already."

"I'm just repeating what the brochure said."

"And we're here for a week?"

"Is that a problem?"

"It is if you're going to tell me about how green everything is."

"Honestly! Can't you just loosen up and relax? If you're going to be like this the entire time--"

"Okay, okay! Sorry!"

The tram slowed to a halt in front of the Grand Emerald Hotel, the most luxurious place to stay in the city. Hinge and Sylvie got off the tram and walked down the street to the much more conservative Emerald Econo-rooms, which was about all they could afford.

They'd reserved rooms next to each other for convenience's sake, but there was a mistake on Sylvie's reservation that lodged Sylvie on the far side of the hotel.

The friends parted ways to settle into their rooms. Sylvie was quicker about it than Hinge, so she met up with him at his room.

"Let's go clubbing!" Sylvie proclaimed, grabbing Hinge by the hand and dragging him to the club district.

Sylvie chattered incessantly along the way. "There's this one club I've been hearing about, so we _have_ to go there-- I know you're not interested in clubs, but you _have_ to come with me, just this once."

Hinge stayed quiet and went along, hoping that it would be over faster if he cooperated.

Sylvie suddenly dropped Hinge's hand, hurrying ahead. To the door of a club, the only one on the street without its lights on and flashing every shade of green imaginable.

"It's closed?" Sylvie wondered.

"What a pity," Hinge said, trying to sound honest. "Let's go somewhere else."

Sylvie frowned, obviously disappointed. "I really wanted to come here tonight... Oh well, I guess we'll try again tomorrow. You win, we'll go to the arcade."

Hinge was about to mention he never said anything about an arcade, but remembered his strategy of just getting it over with.

The massive arcade was much like the club district in that it had neon green, flashing lights every which way. The arcade, however, was much noisier.

Hinge merely stood while Sylvie picked out a game for them to play. They were all the same to Hinge, even though he hadn't played too many games.

"We'll play this one!" Sylvie declared, shoving a visor at Hinge. Without protesting, he took it and placed it over his optics. He was familiar with the interface, at least. He sometimes used one when a router suffered a particularly bad crash.

The game, thank the Matrix, was in the full color spectrum. Hinge found joy in that. The premise of the game was lost on him the moment he noticed the purple flowers near his feet, the deep blue sky, and the gray castle looming ahead.

Maybe that was why the Emerald City was so popular. Maybe people came here so they'd appreciate color more when they left.

"Hinge, would you get moving already?" A polygonal Sylvie tapped her foot. Hinge obediently followed, trying to remember what the point of the game was. Something about a princess or a wizard or some other absurd scheme.

Fifteen defeated ghouls and bats later, no thanks to Hinge, he and Sylvie stood in the deserted throne room of the castle. Sylvie was trying to figure out how to move forward and Hinge was preoccupied with the red trim on the thrones.

Out of the corner of Hyde's range of vision, he spotted something quickly moving towards him.

It was right behind him. Why wasn't Sylvie noticing?

Something gripped the back of his head, and there was a crackling sound that quickly got louder, and then--

Running on instinct, Hinge grabbed at his optics, and was suddenly back in the loud, green arcade, smoking visor in his hand.

His head hurt.

"Hinge? Where'd you go?" Sylvie was still in the game. "Hinge? What happened?"

Hinge dumbly stared at the smoking visor.

"May I have that?" A bot came up. Hinge placed the visor in his outstretched hand. "This happens every so often," the bot explained. "You will be compensated for your trouble with free passage to Emerald Hills. Are you feeling any negative effects?"

Hinge shook his head and accepted the tickets he was offered.

"Good." The bot turned on his heel and disappeared into the depths of the arcade.

Sylvie had disengaged from the arcade a few moments ago.

"Hinge?" she asked. "What's going on?"

It took him a bit to find the words. "I got ...zapped... by the visor?"

Sylvie looked at Hinge's hand. "Hey! Tickets! Where to?"

"Emerald Hills."

"Neat! We can go there tomorrow! It's kind of like a nature preserve," she explained. "C'mon, you look tired. Let's head back to the hotel and call it a night."

Hinge nodded, still not sure of what just occurred.

* * *

"Except for the central city," Sylvie explained as the tram sped along, "The rest of the planet's pretty naturalistic."

Come morning, the previous night had seemed like a weird nightmare. Hinge's head felt fine. He was hoping for a nice, peaceful day among trees and streams, despite the fact that they'd undoubtedly be an unnatural shade of green.

"If the planet's mostly like this," he said, gesturing at the hills that stretched towards the horizon, "why's it called the Emerald _City_?"

"Because it just _is_, okay? Can't you just relax and have a good time?"

Can't _you_? Hinge thought glumly. He rested his head on his hand and watched the scenery fly by until the tram stopped at what looked like an old-fashioned Earth train station.

Those intending to go to Emerald Hills, including Hinge and Sylvie, got off the tram. A rustic path guided them away from the tracks, around a few hills, and came to a sign that explained a few rules and told the tourists to have a good time.

The day was enjoyable to Hinge, and Sylvie didn't seem to mind the lack of excitement. Hinge didn't even mind the green as much.

They returned to the station late that afternoon and watched the yellowy-green sun set against the blue-green sky.

The moment the tram let them off, Sylvie dragged Hinge to the nightclub they'd tried to visit the night before.

Sylvie was overjoyed to find it was open and active. When they went in, it looked like Hinge expected any nightclub to look like. There was an oil bar, loud, bass-heavy music, a dance floor hidden by smoke, mechs and femmes dancing and mingling everywhere.

Hinge couldn't think of a singe reason why he would want to be here, except for the fact that Sylvie'd dragged him here, just as she had just about every place they'd been to so far. Thankfully, Sylvie left him at the bar to go dancing.

Hinge sat down on a barstool.

"Something I can get you?" the bartender asked, doing his job.

"Something safe and non-corrosive, if you have it," Hinge replied. He wasn't into drinking. The bartender gave him something and he looked at it, not actually wanting it.

He scanned the crowd, looking for Sylvie. He hoped she at least was having fun. He couldn't find her, but that didn't worry him. The place was packed.

It was probably because he was lost in thought that he didn't react when the first gunshot rang out. It took the collective gasps and cries of the clubbers to call him out of his reverie. By the time the second third shots were fired, some of the dancers were cowering on the floor.

To Hinge, it was like watching a show. It didn't occur to him that what was going on could be real. Things like that never happened to someone like him.

Chaos ensued. Some fled for the exit. Some looked for the gunmen. Some hid.

Hinge just sat there until a hand reached up and grabbed his arm. Surprised, he jumped and looked at the owner of the arm.

"Hinge, you dummy!" Sylvie said from her spot on the floor. "Get down here! You could get shot!"

As if on cue, an energy blast hit Hinge in the chest, a little right of center. Hinge fell into the bar and then to the floor.

"Are you okay!" Sylvie propped him up against the bar.

Hinge had never been shot before, and he couldn't say he liked the experience.

The bartender, who had come out from behind the bar, put his hand on Sylvie's shoulder.

"I know where we can go and be safe," he told her. "Is your friend functional?"

Hinge managed a nod. He didn't think he would die.

"Follow me." The bartender went back behind the bar. Sylvie and Hinge followed. On the other side, a chipmunk waited for them.

Actually a bot in beast mode, it grumbled while removing a large wall panel. "And we'd just repaired the damage from the_ last_ attack." She gestured into the passage the wall panel had hidden. It wasn't large enough to accommodate a standing Transformer as tall as Hinge, but their beast modes would fit fine. "After you."

The bartender transformed into a puma and went in. Sylvie, in her fox form, followed after. Hinge reluctantly transformed and went third. The chipmunk sealed the passage from the inside, leaving the chaos behind them.

"Stay quiet," the puma said, "They might be looking for us."

When Hinge had decided he was used to his beast mode, he meant he was used to _having_ it, not _using_ it. His panda gate was ungainly, to say the least. In the dim light, he could see Sylvie and the puma getting farther and farther ahead of him. The chipmunk passed him and caught up to the others. They had to stop and wait for him.

_Don't trust them._

"What?" Hinge looked around, looking for where the voice had come from.

"Shh!" Sylvie hissed. Hadn't she heard it? Maybe he was imagining things. He had been shot, after all.

The passage was very dim (though not green, thankfully) for a ways, then lightened up a lot. They passed a couple junctions with other passages.

"A panda," the puma commented. "Cute."

Hinge tried to frown, but he didn't think it worked.

"My name's Diablo," the puma said It was apparently safe to talk now. "That's Rattle." He indicated the chipmunk.

"I'm Sylvie, and this is Hinge." Sylvie seemed awfully calm, considering what had just happened, but then again, Hinge wasn't as distressed as he thought he'd be.

"How's the damage?" Diablo asked him, not sounding very concerned.

"It's better." Hinge tried to frown again.

"Internal repairs. It's a good thing you've got a beast mode."

"What exactly happened back there?" Hinge asked, wondering why Sylvie hadn't said it already.

"Anti-Liberator action. It happens a lot."

"Liberator?" He didn't understand, but it didn't sound good.

"We'll explain later," Rattle said.

The passage seemed to turn into a labyrinth. Diablo and Rattle navigated the twists and turns easily, no doubt because they'd been through here many times before.

By the time the confines of the passage widened into a hidden city, Hinge had lost all sense of direction.

"This is the Liberator headquarters," Diablo said, turning to Hinge. "You should rest. We'll fill you in later."

Hinge didn't much like the idea of resting surrounded by unknowns-- there must've been fifty or so bots bustling here and there-- but then again, they _had_ helped him.

Rattle led Sylvie and him to the sleeping quarters.

"Take it easy, Hinge," Sylvie told him once Rattle'd left. "I'll watch over you while you sleep. You're going to need to sleep so the damage can heal."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." Hinge wished he could frown while in beast mode.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud," Sylvie said affectionately. "I'll be here."

Hinge remembered his resolution to just go along with what Sylvie wanted. He curled up and fell into an uneasy sleep.


	3. The Liberators' Cause

Pawn  
Chapter Three: The Liberator's Cause

* * *

When someone seemed to be shoving him, Hinge woke up. He'd dreamt, but he couldn't remember what the dreams were. They left him unsettled, but he couldn't say why.

"Slag, I was wondering when you'd wake up." Sylvie smiled down at him. He blinked at her. "How's the chest wound doing?"

"I don't know." Hinge transformed, glad to be back in a form he was used to. He looked down at where he'd taken the hit; there was barely a mark left.

"Good." Sylvie nodded. "While you were out, I found out what exactly the Liberators are. They're a cannibalistic cult that sacrifices wayward travelers."

Hinge stared down at Sylvie.

"I'm _kidding_. They're actually behind a good cause. Sit down."

Hinge obliged, not finding the joke funny, but glad it was a joke.

Sylvie sat down opposite him. "Remember how I told you about how the moon has the array on it that projects the light filters around the planet? Well, it's not really a moon."

"That's not unusual. Cybertron has a scads of fake moons."

"Yes, but those were built by Transformers."

"Then who built this one?"

"We don't know. It was stolen."

"Someone stole a moon."

"Not _someone_, the people who own the Emerald City."

"_Why_?"

"That's not important. What's important is getting the moon back to where it belongs. Hence the Liberators."

"They're trying to put the moon back?"

"Exactly!" Sylvie grinned. "And we're going to help them."

Hinge groaned. He didn't want to get involved in any plots or causes. He just wanted to go home to his nice, safe desk job.

"Hinge, come on! Don't be-"

"Don't be such a stick in the mud. I know, I know." He put his hands over his optics. Just be quiet and go along, he reminded himself. It'll all be over faster. "I don't have to do anything, do I?"

"Nothing hard." Sylvie took him by the hand and led him to where a group of Liberators, including Diablo and Rattle, were preparing for a foray.

"Have you told him?" Diablo asked Sylvie.

"He's ready," Sylvie reported.

Diablo turned to Hinge. "It's Knob, right?"

"Hinge."

"Hinge, we're taking you to meet someone."

"Some sort of initiation?" He hoped not.

"No, we need you to get something from her. We need it."

"Why can't you do it?"

Sylvie shot him a "don't be such a stick in the mud" look.

"This femme has a few screws loose, to put it nicely," Diablo explained. "She won't hand it over to just anyone who asks, it needs to be someone ordinary."

"Sylvie's ordinary," Hinge said. "Have her do it."

"Thanks, Hinge." Sylvie's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"She's not ...ordinary enough," Diablo said. "You're the most ordinary bot we've got."

Remembering his resolution, Hinge sighed. "What is it you need me to get?"

"A lens."

"That's it? A lens?"

"It's the focusing lens for a tractor beam." It was beginning to be obvious that Diablo wasn't appreciating Hinge's questions. "They're normally expensive and hard to get, but this lens is for a tractor beam strong enough to move a moon. It's one of a kind, and costs to make another one are astronomical."

"So, you're going to take me to this lady, and I'm supposed to ask her for the lens she has."

"She was keeping it safe for us before she went loopy," Diablo explained, anticipating another question. "It's not quite that simple, but you've got the right idea."

"Lead the way," Hinge said, wishing he had stayed home and not come in the first place. Just go along, he told himself. It'll be over faster.

* * *

Diablo and Rattle led Hinge, Sylvie, and small number of Liberators through the labyrinth and exited through a munchkin house a ways outside the city. From there, they hiked over the hills until there wasn't a sign of civilization, save for a tiny munchkin house off in the distance.

Through the hike, Hinge noticed Sylvie was being uncharacteristically quiet. She was serious, even. Hinge would have asked her what was on her mind, but he was being quiet in order to make things go faster.

After awhile, it became clear to Hinge where their destination was. The munchkin house wasn't so tiny after all. The Liberators stopped a hill away, then looked at Hinge.

"You'll have to go the rest of the way by yourself," Diablo told him. "She can't know you're with us."

"Can't Sylvie come with me?" Hinge felt more reluctant than usual.

"No. She's not ordinary enough. You have to go alone."

If frowns could kill, Hinge's would have made the whole group drop dead.

"Get going," Sylvie said, though she sounded more impatient than encouraging. "We'll be here when you get it."

Hinge leadfootedly finished the journey alone, going up to the door of the Transformer-sized Munchkin house. The others were out of sight, just on the other side of a hill.

He was about to knock on the door when it opened, leaving his fist in midair.

"Good evening!" A cheery femme smiled at him and dramatically gestured for him to come inside.

By Hinge's estimate, it was late morning, or at least not evening.

"I'm called Inverse," the femme said, "but you can call me Auntie Innie."

Hinge recalled that "auntie" was human title of some sort.

"Good... evening," he said, completely unsure of how to react.

"I must apologize, for I'm completely out of suitable refreshments. The chairs are quite comfortable though. Please do take a seat."

Hinge, not seeing anything to sit on, hesitated until Inverse sat on the bare floor, then followed suit.

"Was the journey troublesome? The paths are treacherous at this time of year."

"It wasn't too bad," Hinge answered, looking around the one-room, unfurnished house.

"Please forgive my inquisitiveness, but what brings you to call, sir...?"

"Hinge," he supplied. "I'm... looking for something."

"Are you?" Inverse's friendly demeanor diminished somewhat. "I'm not sure I have what you're looking for."

Hinge didn't feel very disappointed. It just meant that the Liberators would have to find some other 'ordinary' bot.

"That's all right, I'm not sure I really want it anyways," he said, glad he could be honest about it without getting into trouble.

"How is the city, Mr. Hinge? It has been _such_ a long time since I visited it."

"About the same as it's always been," Hinge replied, guessing he was right. "Loud, crowded, lots of lights." Inverse nodded understandingly.

"Actually," Hinge continued, taking the rare opportunity to talk freely, "I'm hoping to return home and get back to work. I'm here on vacation, only it hasn't been much of one."

When he noticed Inverse was hanging on his every word, he realized he was enjoying himself. He and Inverse chatted awhile, discussing small, unimportant things. Hinge briefly considered mentioning the Liberators' cause, but decided not to risk ruining his visit.

It took awhile for Hinge to realize he'd lost track of time. By now, the others probably took him for dead.

"I should get going homeward," he said, by now accustomed to Inverse's altered version of reality.

"So soon?" Inverse's cheery face fell. "Ah, but you're right. We've probably talked through to morning."

Actually, it was roughly late afternoon, but Hinge knew better than to say otherwise.

"I had a very nice time." Hinge went to the door to let himself out.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Hinge turned around and saw something in Inverse's hand.

"You mustn't let it fall into the wrong hands," she said, giving Hinge a small, thin box. "Do the right thing."

Hinge nodded. "I will."

"And take care of yourself." Inverse smiled at him, opened the door for him, and he walked out.

"Don't hesitate to stop by!" she called as he walked away.

Hinge looked at what he held in his hand. It was the lens he came for, safe and secure in its case. He put in his subspace compartment and headed for where the Liberators waited.

_Don't trust them._

Hinge stopped. He looked around- had he heard that?

_Don't let them have it._

"Hello?" Hinge asked.

_Hello._

"Where are you?"

_...That's not important right now. But you can't give the lens to them._

"Give the lens to who?"

_The Liberators, who else?_

"Why can't I?"

_There'll be time for that later. Just don't give it to them!_

Hinge had had enough of this. Ignoring the voice, wherever it was coming from, he resolutely trudged towards the Liberators.

"Hinge! There you are!" Sylvie waved and ran up to him. "What took you so long?"

"Auntie Inn-- Inverse was a little odd." Hinge decided to keep his visit with Inverse to himself.

"Did you get it?" Sylvie looked around him, trying to see if he had anything in his hands.

"I have it."

"Give it to me," Sylvie demanded.

"I can carry it back to the Liberators myself, thanks."

"Let me do it!" Sylvie whined.

_Don't let her have it!_

Hinge reminded himself of his decision to be quiet.

_Has that really worked? Has being quiet actually made this whole thing end quicker?_

"Hinge, what's wrong with you?" Sylvie huffed. "You're such a stick in the mud!"

"What if these Liberators aren't actually who they say they are?" Hinge asked her. "What if we're doing something we shouldn't?"

"That's silly! Why would they lie to us?"

"I don't know, but don't you think it's kind of weird that they gave someone like me such an important task? Why couldn't they do it themselves?"

"Because they're not ordinary like you! We already went over that!"

"But what about you? Aren't _you_ ordinary?"

"Of course I am. I'm just not ordinary enough."

_She's one of them._

"You aren't one of them, are you?" Hinge asked.

"And what if I am?" Sylvie folded her arms across her chestplate.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Hinge, I'm going to ask you one last time." Sylvie looked deadly serious. "Give me the lens."

_You're going to have to escape before she calls her friends over. You can't fight them all at once._

Fight? Hinge thought frantically. Who said anything about a fight?

_There's going to be a fight. Get away while you can._

What, was this voice reading his thoughts?

_Uh... Yes, I suppose I am._

"Hinge!" Sylvie's voice took an edge he'd hadn't heard before. Was this really his friend?

"I don't have the slightest clue what's going on," Hinge confessed, both to the voice and Sylvie.

Sylvie looked somewhere between annoyed and downright angry as she said, "Hand over the lens." She drew a gun and aimed it at Hinge.

_See? Disable her and run!_

But she'd shoot him if he tried that!

_It's a small gun, and you're a big guy. You'll live, trust me. I've been more up front with you than the 'Liberators.'_

Hinge stood still a moment, horrified at what he was about to do. He wasn't a warrior, or a fighter, or even a thug. He didn't have any love for conflict.

_Do it!_

Hinge grabbed Sylvie's gun, which fired into his side as he twisted it out of her hand. When she was disarmed, he shoved her as hard as he could. As Sylvie fell to the ground, Hinge dropped the gun and took off away from the Liberators and Inverse's house, running off through the hills.

_You should've kept the gun!_

Hinge's pace faltered. He'd need a gun?

_Don't worry about that now, just keep running!_

The wound in his side suddenly made itself known. He slowed down, trying to ease the pain.

_Speed up! At this rate, they'll catch you in no time!_

"Just who are you?" Hinge wheezed, forcing his leaden feet to move faster.

_There are more important things to concentrate on right now. Like living._

"Just how far am I supposed to run?"

_Until they stop chasing you. Hey, don't look back!_

On cue, Hinge turned his head and looked behind him. He had half a dozen angry Transformers a ways behind him and gaining ground. He tried to block out the pain in his side as he made every effort he could to run faster.

_You're going to have to break away and find cover._

"And how exactly do I do that?"

_I'm working on it. You do the running and I'll do the thinking._

Shortly after Hinge mentally began resigning his life to the Matrix, a battlecry interrupted his thoughts. Ignoring the voice's pleas to not look back, he saw that behind the Liberators was a lone femme wielding a gatling gun.

Inverse let loose a barrage of bullets aimed at the Liberators, shouting about how the likes of them would never get their hands on the lens.

Hinge watched in awe of the mentally unstable femme. Even he could see she was distracting the Liberators and buying him time to get away.

_So get going already! She won't be able to hold them off for long!_

"But Inverse might..." Hinge protested.

_Inverse knows what she's getting into. They probably won't kill her. They can't afford another death._

Hinge took off running again. The voice told him to go to the nearest Munchkin house, so he did.

_Go to beast mode and enter the tunnel._

"They saw me go in, and they know the tunnels better than I do. I'm going to get lost."

_The important thing right now is to get away. This is your best chance._

Hinge transformed and did as he was told, running through the labyrinth in his awkward panda form. When he felt he was lost enough, he stopped.

_Good. I think you can rest now. They won't be able to search the entire underground efficiently with their small numbers._

Hinge sat down, panting. He was tired, his side hurt, and he was scared for his life. He'd never asked to get involved. He didn't even want to go on vacation in the first place.

Some vacation this turned out to be. He'd been shot twice, deceived, used, and he was hearing voices.

Ignoring the voice's warnings, Hinge shut everything out, wishing he was back home in Cybertropolis, working at his nice, safe job.


	4. Escape

Pawn  
Chapter Four: Escape

_By Primus, wake up! Sleeping will **not **get you out of this situation!_

Hinge had managed to ignore the voice for some time, but it reasserted itself every time he fell asleep.

_Now stay awake this time!_

Hinge wanted nothing more to do with any of this. No more voices in his head, no more lenses or insane femmes. He was going to take the first transport back to Cybertron he could and leave this all behind.

_You can't get out of this that easily! Like it or not, you are now involved!_

If only that voice would shut up.

_Alright, Hinge. I've been nice. I admit I haven't told you anything, but that's because I haven't had the chance. I've got the chance now, but you're not listening._

Then again, that voice was only a faint buzzing.

_Listen to me! I don't want to, but I **will** take control if I have to!_

...Take control? Voices in one's head could take control?

_I'm not just a voice in your head! I used to be a living being, just like you!_

Used to be?

_Yes! I've survived in this state by going from one Transformer to another, but my physical self has long since gone to scrap. I'm not the first person this has happened to._

Great. Hinge was haunted.

_And I'll possess you if you don't cooperate!_

"Possess?" Hinge's head snapped up. He didn't want to be possessed.

_Then listen!_

"Not until you tell me what's going on!"

_I've been **trying** to!_

Hinge sighed. "You have my full attention."

_My name is _Slate. _I was originally part of the team that found the moon the Emerald City uses. I advised against using that moon, but they ignored my reports._

"Maybe because they don't listen to voices in their head either."

_I had a body back then. I protested and resisted, and then I threatened to bring my findings to the authorities, but I died before they could._

"Did they kill you?"

_It was an accident, as far as I know. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but my consciousness seems to have been uploaded into the computer system before I died._ _They don't know I'm still around._

"What was it that you found?"

_Have you heard of the Beast Wars?_

"I heard about them awhile back. Something about a war being fought on ancient Earth."

_When the victors returned to Cybertron, they came with information pertaining to a race known as the Vok. Not much is known about them, but what we do know isn't good. They are extremely possessive of their property and have a particular dislike for Transformers._

"What does this have to do with a moon?"

_It's not a moon so much as a weapon. It's also been dubbed the Planet Buster. It was made by the Vok, designed to destroy any and every living thing on the planet it orbits, to sterilize it. My readings showed the moon chosen for the Emerald City was a similar structure._

"And they ignored you?"

_Actually, they knew. They **wanted** the moon for that reason. They wanted to learn from the Vok technology and adapt it to their uses._

"So, what, you want to save the people who killed you?"

_For one thing, everyone here, except for the employees, have absolutely nothing to do with this._

"Hey, if the Liberators want to play with the lives of their visitors, that's their thing."

_Like how they've played with **your** life?_

Hinge didn't respond to that.

_When the Vok come to rain down destruction on this resort planet, what makes you think they'll stop here? Transformers are infernally bothersome creatures to them- why not just wipe them out?_

"You think they'll go after Cybertron?"

_I do. And then you won't have anyplace to hide. I'm sorry, Hinge, but you're in this until the end._

Forgetting he was a panda, Hinge tried frowning. He didn't want to be any part of this. Couldn't Slate just find someone else?

_You've got the lens, and you've got me, therefore you've got the best shot._

"What do you plan on having me doing?"

_First, we need to get off this planet. Then we need to put the moon back._

"How does one go about putting a moon back?" Hinge had been feeling better for a moment, but the more he found out, the worse the situation sounded.

_We'll have to use the ship they used to bring it here. We'll worry about that later, though. Let's concentrate on getting out of here._

* * *

The going was slow, to put it mildly. Hinge had to check around every corner whenever he came to a crossroad, and neither he nor Slate knew the way out of the tunnels. It took what felt like an eternity before Hinge saw the green-tinged surface of the planet.

He'd come out of the labyrinth in the hills and could see the city off in the distance. It was late in the day; soon the sun would be setting.

Hinge looked around apprehensively. There was no sign of trouble. The Liberators didn't seem to know where he was. Not at the moment, anyways.

_We need to get to the city._

"Yeah, I know that," Hinge grumbled, taking his first steps towards the city, trying to ignore the pain that lingered in his side. It served as a reminder that what was going on was deadly serious, something Hinge would rather forget.

Night served as a good cover as Hinge came upon the outskirts of the city. The green helped, too. Pandas weren't known for their camouflage, but the green made the white stand out far less.

Hinge transformed when he entered the city. No one took notice of him, which surprised him. He felt that since he was carrying a stolen lens and the spirit of a dead Transformer, he would stick out in a crowd. No one could tell he had such things with him, so no one took notice of the ordinary-looking bot when he walked into town.

_Stick with the crowd. You'll blend in better._

Hinge frowned and nodded.

_And look out for security cameras._

Hinge looked up, back and forth as he tried to spot a camera.

_No, not like that! Don't act so suspicious!_

"So I'm supposed to be looking everywhere at once and act perfectly normal at the same time."

_...Yes. Just try your best. The tram to the spaceport is five blocks from here._

Five blocks didn't sound so bad.

* * *

There was a throng of Transformers waiting to get on the tram. Transformers, not unlike humans, were more apt to wait in bunches instead of neat and orderly lines. Hinge squeezed his way to the middle of the group, trying in vain not to step on any feet.

"The slagging thing doesn't come for another three cycles," an irritated mech said to an equally irritated femme.

"Yes, dear, you've said that."

"We're wasting time. We could've spent more time at the arcade."

Hinge flinched at his memories of the arcade.

_The tram usually runs early._

"Good," Hinge murmured. The couple in front of him turned around, wondering what he was talking to. He looked away from them, trying to pretend he hadn't said anything.

"Here it comes," the femme said, looking down the track.

"It's about slagging time," the mech grumbled.

_They've been waiting here barely longer than we have!_ Slate sounded exasperated. Hinge wished the voice would be quiet.

_Sorry. I'll only speak up when I need to._

"Thanks."

Another glance from the femme. Hinge reminded himself to be more careful.

The tram pulled into the station, and the bots boarded in a less-than-orderly manner. Hinge was stuck in the middle, between an extremely oversized femme and a jittery, shifty bot.

Hinge kept his gaze fixed on the scenery passing by. He felt this was the best way to keep from attracting attention. He watched patiently as the tram sped through the hills, nearing the spaceport.

"Hey," the jittery bot all but whispered, tapping Hinge on his arm. "Hey, have you heard about what's been going on?"

"No, I haven't," Hinge answered. He was about to add, "And I don't care to," but the shifty bot cut him off.

"There's a _conspiracy_." The bot hissed his "s" sounds slightly. It was annoying.

Hinge was becoming very familiar with sinking feelings. The spaceport was coming up now and the tram was beginning to slow down.

"I heard that the people who run this place have a superweapon," the bot continued, unbidden. "They're going to use it as political leverage and get federal funding."

_Don't listen to him_, Slate said. _He doesn't know what he's talking about._

"But you can't tell anyone," the bot hissed. "Okay? Just you and me, got it?"

_See, Hinge? He's crazy, and I'll bet he doesn't even have a voice in his head._

It wasn't very comforting to know that.

The tram finished its deceleration and the doors opened to let the passengers off into the spaceport. Hinge got off in the same direction as the bot, heading for the ticket counter.

"Where am I supposed to go?" Hinge asked as quietly as possible.

_We need to get to the Mothball Fleet. See if you can get any tickets straight to there._

"Can't I go back to Cybertron and stop by my apartment first? I should probably pick up a few things and make sure my houseplant's got enough water."

_They've probably got surveillance on your apartment. A trip to Cybertron's too risky._

Hinge approached the ticket counter, adjusting to constant disappointment.

"Can I help you?" the ticket bot absently asked.

"Can I get a ticket to the Mothball Fleet?" It occurred to Hinge that he didn't know why he was going or what was there, but now wasn't a good time to ask.

The ticket bot processed the request for a moment, then raised an optic ridge.

"Mothball Fleet?"

_Tell him it's part of your vacation._

"It's part of my vacation," Hinge echoed.

The bot tapped at his computer terminal a bit. "Sorry, but we don't have any service straight there. It says the Fleet's strictly military access only."

Hinge frowned.

_How close can we get?_

Hinge repeated the question, forgetting to change "we" to "I". The bot didn't seem to notice.

"There's a small spaceport nearby that's generally used only by the military, but it says it's accessible to civilians as well."

_That works._

"I'll take it."

As the bot was printing out Hinge's ticket, the jittery bot who had followed Hinge off the tram took hold of Hinge's arm and shook it.

"The guards are here," he said in a loud whisper. Hinge tried to pull his arm out of the bot's grasp, calmly looking around for someone who looked like a guard. A femme painted in a desert camouflage pattern paced not too far away, patrolling for anyone who might look suspicious.

"Here you go. You want gate four, off towards the left. It's scheduled to leave in a cycle and a half, but they've agreed to hold for you. You'd better hurry." The ticket bot handed Hinge his ticket. Hinge kept watch of the patrol femme as he put the ticket away in subspace. The femme's gaze fell in Hinge and the jittery bot's general direction.

"She's spotted us!" the jittery bot shouted well above the spaceport din. "Run for it!" He tried to pull Hinge away, foiled by Hinge's large size.

The patrol femme started in Hinge's direction.

"We have to move!" the bot told Hinge louder than he needed to. "She knows we know!" When Hinge didn't budge, the bot gave up and took off on his own.

Hinge, who had frozen once the patrol femme had spotted him, dumbly watched the femme get closer.

"Your friend there's got a screw loose," the femme said. Hinge just stood.

_Do something!_

"...not friend," Hinge managed to say, finding his voice. "I don't know him. He just latched onto me in the tram. I've never seen him before."

"Well, I'd better call into HQ and let them know they've got another loon on the loose," the femme said. "It seems like all the crazies are out lately."

The femme tapped her commlink on, then said into it, "Boss, there's a crazy headed for Gate 20. Whoever's over there needs a heads-up."

"Roger that," the femme's boss said. "What's he look like?"

"Short guy, pretty wiry. He sticks out."

"Not a large mech? Panda for a beast mode?"

"Nope, nothing like--" The femme stopped and looked at Hinge.

_Run._

Hinge stood still.

_Run!_

Hinge's legs obeyed. He wasn't sure if it was him or Slate who told them to do it, but when he regained coherent thought, he was running towards Gate 4, pursued by the femme.

_Hurry, we're almost there!_

He spotted Gate 4, which had an impatient-looking attendant waiting in front of it, tapping her foot. Hinge pushed through a crowd of bots lined up to board a different ship, ignoring the complaints of those he shoved out of his way. The line reformed behind him in a clump, forming a convenient barrier to slow down his pursuant.

"You must be the bot we're waiting for," the attendant said as Hinge approached. "Good, we're already to lift off. May I see your--"

"Ticket!" Hinge whipped his ticket out of subspace and shoved it at the attendant.

"Uh, thank you, sir. Please board the ship and take your seat immediately." The attendant stepped out of the way, then began closing the hatch after Hinge stepped inside.

"Wait, stop that ship!" the patrol femme called.

The attendant said back, "I'm sorry, you're too late, you'll have to wait for the next flight," and finished closing the hatch.

Hinge plopped in an empty seat, which were plentiful on the fairly empty spacecraft, and belted in, hearing the roar of the engines already pick up.

_I think... I think we're safe, at least for the moment._

Safe? How could they be safe?

_If we were still in trouble, the pilot would've cut the engines. Look, we're already lifting off._

Slate's observations were a little late, as Hinge was already being pushed against the back of his seat by the G's.

_Don't breathe easy just yet. There's no saying they won't turn the ship around._

Hinge groaned, but no one could hear it over the engines.

_I think I've got a plan. We just have to wait until we break orbit. Until then, the ship won't be able to communicate with anyone._

How did Slate know all this?

_Experience, of course. Relax and enjoy the ride while you can._

Hinge tried to enjoy the breather, but it was hard to while he sat in a ship accelerating to break from a planet's gravity.


End file.
